


Leaving the Winter Behind

by Chyme



Series: Compatibility [4]
Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Biting, Cooking, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hair Brushing, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, More like Fur Brushing, Naked Cuddling, Riding, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyme/pseuds/Chyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a boyfriend with fur was great during the winter. Not so much when summer rolled round, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night of the Living Heater

 

 

‘Mmmm,’ Ben said, nestling further into his boyfriend’s side. ‘It’s like sleeping next to a heater.’

Rook chuckled, and Ben relaxed further, appreciating both the roll of breath against his forehead and the way it pasted warmth against his skin. ‘A heater, but not a blanket? Do I really feel that hard to you?’

Ben decided not to take the opening for the rather obvious joke there. He knew from experience that it tended to fall flat. Or, well, _flaccid_. He suppressed a smile at the thought before propping his head up onto the broad plane of Rook’s chest and running a finger through the ruff of white fur there. Still, he was not quite able to kill the small grin on his face that appeared as he felt a shiver pass through the muscle beneath.

‘Ben...’

It was not a warning, not quite, and the other’s eyes had yet to turn gold and hooded the way they always did when Ben decided to turn up the heat, but the hero took pity on him anyway, cutting off the stroke into a casual tap as though playing out a drumbeat.

‘I dunno dude, you feel pretty sturdy under all this fur. Blankets are a lot more, you know, re-shapable.’

Rook raised an eyebrow. ‘Re-shapable?’

Ben nodded. ‘Re-shapable.’

‘So by contrast, does this make you more....pliable?’ Rook smirked at his word choice, in that smug, little ‘I know better than you’ look he sometimes got, and carefully reached down to squeeze the skin that wove off after the small of Ben’s back to form an obvious curve. ‘You have draped yourself over me like a duvet, after all.’

Ben rolled his eyes and tried not to shift too much as Rook gently kneaded the bulge of flesh there. At least he didn’t have claws this time.

‘I’m pretty sure everyone’s more pliable down there, dude,’ he pointed out, not feeling as annoyed as he probably should have.

‘Yours is softer than mine.’

‘Weelll,’ drawled Ben, reaching down to seize Rook’s fingers and halt the rhythmic way they were folding into the flesh of his arse. ‘If it bothers you so much, you could try stroking my chest instead.’

Rook frowned. ‘I am not bothered.’ But he let Ben’s hand draw his own up, into the tuck of furless ribs that pressed into his stomach, carving out a thin hollow between them. He gave a curious tilt of the head as Ben paused, annoyance flashing in his face.

‘Even your stomach’s hard,’ Ben muttered. ‘No fair.’

‘I work out every day. You do not. One of the many things it is, Ben, is fair.’

‘Urgh.’  Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Maybe I should just stop sleeping with you. It would probably do wonders for my self-esteem.’

‘You could start working out,’ suggested Rook. ‘I could give you a few tips...or maybe not,’ he amended, on seeing the beginning of a developing glare on Ben’s face. His previous relationship with Rayona hadn’t lasted as long as it had because he was stupid, after all.

Ben sighed. ‘Let’s just go to sleep, Mr Muscles. I’m not in the mood to have a ‘you should live your life better, Ben’ argument.’

Rook’s nose wrinkled. ‘I do not sound like that.’

‘Yeah, you kinda do, dude. Now shut up and be my pillow.’

Ben lowered his head, letting it slip down into the crevice between Rook’s neck and chin. He could feel the real pillow flushed out against the curve of hair over the back of his neck, but for the most part his cheek and temple were pressed against the billowing strain of muscle that shaped Rook’s throat. It was magical, the way he could feel it, that slight lift in the tendons and the way they climbed up beneath his chin, air fluttering beneath his palm as his hand dragged itself from Rook’s stomach and stroked against the other’s throat. Rook’s breathing hitched a little at that, before soothing into a low, soft rumble and Ben felt powerful for a moment, playing the part of puppet-master in the body beneath him, even if that same body did still manage to rise up and cast his own slightly into shadow.

‘Just you wait,’ he found himself muttering. ‘I’ve seen future me. I’m gonna get ripped.’

Then was a pause.

‘I am still going to be taller. 'Future you' could still barely look me in the eyes.’

Ben screwed his face up in annoyance.

‘Besides...’

Ben felt an arm wrap round him, sliding round to rest against the line of his stomach.

‘I like how you are now. If I wanted a lover merely for their muscular build, I would be dating...’

Ben let the rumble of Rook’s voice pass through him, feeling a little touched and then amused as it drifted away, Rook’s shoulder tensing beneath his hand in thought. And then, rather like a cartoon villain, Ben felt his mouth sharpen into an unpleasant grin.

‘ _Kevin_.’

It was worth it, just to feel the jolt of surprise travel through Rook’s form.

‘Kevin? I cannot even begin to imagine...’

‘C’mon now, you guys have tonnes in common, you both geek out over machines, you both...know stuff.’

Rook’s hand opened slightly, his fingers fanning out across the slender curve of Ben’s stomach.

 _‘Unfortunately_ , I do not think he would make as good a blanket as you do.’

‘Oh.’ Score one for Rook Blonko, Ben thought, fighting down the lump in his throat. ‘Oh. Well, um, that’s good for me then.’

‘Yes,’ said Rook, ‘it is.’

 And then Ben closed his eyes as he felt a snuffling breath press down against his hair, the weight of Rook’s chin dipping over his forehead to slide against his skin in a quick nuzzle.

‘And,’ Rook added, ‘it is good for me as well.’

Ben smiled and tried to snuggle himself further into the fur lining his cheek, ignoring the slight 'oomph' of sound his partner let out at the motion. Yes, it was good. Good that Rook not only doubled up as a heater for the winter chill of his bedroom, but also, with a few words, could warm him to the core.

 

\--------------------------

 

Five months later, Ben woke up in a sweat, his sides glistening with an oily shimmer that only the thin strip of light from between the curtains could illuminate. He took a moment just to breathe, throat burning for a glass of water, before he narrowed his eyes at the weight pressed against his side. Then, without further ado, he thrust off Rook’s arm.

‘This,’ he felt himself croak out, ‘is ridiculous.’

 

 


	2. Smoothies Make Everything A-OK

 

‘I don’t know, Ben, have you actually tried talking to him?’ Gwen’s voice poured out of the phone, the tinned and slightly static-ky sound of it doing nothing to disguise her annoyance.

‘Well, no,’ admitted Ben. ‘Because it’s not really his fault and it’s not exactly something I can ask him to change. Surprising as it may sound, I’m not actually a complete jerk, especially when I’m dating someone.’

Gwen coughed out something that sounded a lot like ‘tell that to Julie’.

Ben frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Oh it’s nothing,’ she said airily. ‘Just...I don’t know what you expect _me_ to do about it. ’

‘I expect you to come up with something clever! I mean, it’s not like I can ask him to shave all his fur off!’

And deep from within the recess of the receiver came a laugh. A wheezy, very familiar laugh.

Ben furrowed his brow. ‘ _Gwen_ - _dy_ - _lon_ ,’ he enunciated, being sure to smother the syllables with as much honey as he could manage. ‘Is there a reason your boyfriend is listening in on us?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, and to her credit she did actually sound apologetic. ‘I’m busy reinforcing a jam-jar so its pixie-proof and it’s a both-hands kinda thing. The spell, I mean. So I put you on speaker phone. ’

‘No, not like that,’ came a rather annoyed voice, one no less familiar but if at all possible, even more aggravating than Kevin’s laugh. ‘Jeez, it’s not like a driving test, Gwennie. There is no two and ten o’clock position here to take.’

‘Gwen. Is that...is that _Charmcaster_?’

‘It’s Gwendylon, Ben,’ shot back Gwen, suddenly sounding very annoyed. ‘And yes, it is.’

‘Charmcaster. As in out-of-the-bag-Charmcaster? Gwen, what the-’

‘She’s a lot better now, I swear! ’ Gwen said in a rush, a defensive sting to her voice. ‘Really, there’s nothing to worry about.’

Kevin snorted. ‘Yeah,’ he muttered in a hushed aside that Ben suspected was meant mostly for him. ‘And in case there is...well, that’s kinda why I’m here, dude. ’Cos let me tell you, watching pixies slam their heads into glass objects and seeing them smash over the floor? It’s not fun. Kinda funny at first, but then the boredom rapidly kicks in.’

‘Right,’ said Ben. ‘Well, since neither of you want to help me, I’ll just...go hang up now.’

‘Yeah,’ said Gwen, sounding a little tired, ‘you go do that. And Ben?’

‘Yes?’

‘Talk to him.’

 

\--------------------------

 

Ben didn't talk to him. Or rather, he did, but he didn't say anything actually useful.

'Mmm,' he muttered, no, moaned, twelve hours after hanging up on Gwen, his sides now cascading with sweat.

'Up,' Rook said firmly, accompanying the word with a soft nip to the ear. It was strange that he could do that, bite gently, but he managed all the same, his teeth curving softly round the shell-like curl of skin that allowed Ben to wake up to his voice every morning. And much to Ben's annoyance, he always refused to give away the trick, even when Ben pointed out the fact that _he_ could transform into something with even sharper teeth and that it might one day be handy to know how to bite down on something without actually breaking it.

'Up,' Rook repeated, his hand squeezing against Ben's stomach in a gesture that was meant to be comforting, but now just brought a wince to Ben's face. 'I wish to partake in your pancakes before we are made unbearably late for our morning patrol.'

Ben groaned and turned his face into the pillow, offering the scrunched-up blankets at the foot of the bed a half-hearted kick.

He was weak. Horribly and shamelessly weak. He had spent all of yesterday wondering how he could literally kick Rook out of his home, his bed, until Rook had turned to him with a warm smile and invited him round to his quarters. And then all thoughts of said 'kicking out' had flown away because the customary question, always so politely put, didn't really deserve a negative answer. Not when it was used in combination with that smile and the eager, expectant air Rook sometimes wore like a child on Christmas day.

For it was good to feel wanted. And well, Ben had always had a weakness for being wanted. Not to mention the fact that it was clear just from Rook's face that the guy wasn't expecting a 'no.' So Ben had smiled, said 'sure, why not,' as though he had never had any intention of doing anything else and worn a smile of his own, even as Rook drew him down into his arms later on and smothered his skin with his heat. Because hey, at least the air conditioning worked a lot better there than in Ben's room.

Still, despite the refreshing breeze it had produced and the way it sent dizzying eddies of coolness to sweep against his skin in a current that his pores were all too eager to drink down, it did nothing to prevent the weight of heat that settled across his mid-section and brushed against his back. For Rook was still there, his sleepy snores pressing against Ben's neck in a grind of sound and though that had never been enough to keep him free of sleep before, coupled with the fur poking at Ben's spine, it now served to keep him groggy and awake.

And true, while Ben had managed to drift off a few times, sparingly so, he had still managed to wake at least ten minutes before Rook stirred.

'Do not make me lick you,' the Revonnahgander warned, though his tone held a trace of amusement.

Ben's eyes sprang open. 'I'm awake, I'm awake!'

Rook laughed but allowed Ben to escape the bed, choosing to take his time and stretch, blinking blearily at the ceiling a few times as Ben fled into the tiny kitchen. Or at least, his arms did. Because Plumbers were usually expected to take their meals in the general mess hall, or failing that, use the kitchen attached to Max's shop, but Ben had always refused on account of the fact that they had no idea 'what kind of nasty stuff Grandpa Max put into those pots and pans of his' and because he didn't want their food to smell of 'bug feet.'

It had taken a bit of whining, a week's worth actually, but Rook had eventually caved and brought a mini-fridge, as well as small portable stove which he kept folded up inside a little niche in the wall. And it was to that tiny space that Ben set his attention to now, yanking the stove out with all the dexterity of a practised camper, before pulling down the pan Rook kept on top of the fridge as his face settled with a smirk on the little bag of flour sitting obstinately inside its rim. It was always a bit of a pain washing up in the bathroom sink afterwards, but still, it was better than nothing.

Diving into the fridge, Ben let out a pleased hum as he found the eggs,fruit, and milk he needed, stopping to swirl down a few mouthfuls of the creamy liquid before he got to work, crouching over the stove like some witch huddled over her brew.

He had barely managed to get the ingredients to mix together into a yellowy soup by shifting the pan from side-to-side, mostly because Rook was too cheap to buy a whisk, when said 'cheap' boyfriend settled by his side.  And then those familiar blue fingers were shooting out into his view to deftly turn the gas on and set the fire alight, before they crept out of sight to clamber up against his waistline, offering a few idle pokes at the bunched-up creases of skin that had formed above Ben's hips.

Ben shifted uncomfortably. 'Stop that. That's something I would do, not you.'

'Mine do not show up so easily under my fur,' Rook retorted. 'Even now, it is a bit of a novelty to be so close to a creature whose body is so much more open than my own. At least appearance-wise.'

Ben raised an eyebrow. 'Should I really be making breakfast for someone who calls me a 'creature?''

'We are all creatures,' stated Rook factually. 'Besides. You always complain when I make breakfast.'

'That's because you always put weird stuff in it!'

Ben sighed and seized a handful of blueberries, scattering them into the mixture that was beginning to crackle and pop with heat, hoping that this would shut Rook up. The guy liked blueberries after all, and while Ben could take them or leave them as a fruit, if it got the Revonnahgander to leave him in peace for a few moments-

'You are supposed to fold them into the mixture before you start cooking,' Rook informed him waspishly.

- _oh, of course._

Ben grabbed hold of the pan and started folding and pouring rather angrily, making half-baked pancake-batter obey the slide and fall of the spatula he now held with his other hand, something which Rook thankfully _had_ seen the need to buy.

 _Happy?_ he wanted to snarl, but instead he let the vigorous shake of his wrist and the harsh splat of the spatula do the talking for him, watching with satisfaction as the flat black spokes of plastic thudded wetly into the now hardening mixture.

'Ben?'

Ben didn't answer, watching with a faint smile as raisin-like bursts of purple blossomed and spread under the touch of the spatula, the blueberries beneath bursting to form patterns that strongly resembled the struggle of veins beneath human skin.

Rook gave up and started nuzzling his way into the blend of brown hair that arched up into a series of curls across the back of Ben's neck. And it was such a stupidly cat-like thing to do, that Ben couldn't help but feel his lips twitch in response. He very carefully flipped the pancakes, once, then twice, in small hoop-like jumps, aware of Rook watching him, before he lent his head to one side as he felt that large chin dip, then travel, the mouth above sliding open slightly to press a small kiss against the side of his throat.

 'Am I forgiven yet?' Rook's voice came out muffled, blasting yet more heat across his skin, though thankfully, the air conditioning was still going strong enough for Ben to simply sigh at the press of hot air instead of groan despairingly.

'Just in time for breakfast,' he answered softly, his fingers flicking off the stove a moment later.

Maybe things would work out. Maybe he could talk to Rook and suggest they take a break for a while. And with all these 'maybes' on his tongue, he opened his mouth and turned his head to address his boyfriend...only to meet a wide eager stare that drifted past him, straight to the golden-brown disc inside the pan.

Oh. Well. Maybe after breakfast, then.

 

\--------------------------

 

'Hurry,' said Rook, pushing him into the bathroom. 'We are making excellent time and I have no wish to mar it with any distractions.' He furnished this with a pointed look, bustling Ben into the shower ahead of him.

Ben huffed.'Yeah, sure, I'm so in the mood for a quickie right after I've eaten.'

'One can never tell with you,' Rook muttered, wrenching his arm over Ben's head to turn on the nozzle. Water instantly came thundering down, drenching them both in a waterfall of sparks, with each drop diverted from their sides managing to catch the glimmer of the bathroom light and magnify the bright flare within.

I'm not the one who wastes a whole lifetime with the hairdryer afterwards, Ben thought moodily. But it wasn't a very charitable thought given all the wet fur Rook had to contend with, so he kept it to himself.

There wasn't really much time for talking anyway. Contrary to popular media belief, not every shower taken together could turn sexual in nature and so it was with a very thorough, business-like scrub of each other, that they exited the shower. Just in time for the alarm to go off. Naturally.

Great talk, Ben thought glumly, pulling on his clothes in record time.

 

\--------------------------

 

Okay, he thought grimly fifty minutes later, after they had managed to catch and subdue Nyancy Chan. _Maybe_ , just _maybe_ they could talk now.

'Hey,' he said with an all-too-casual lean out of his seat, just to see how much concentration Rook was putting into his driving because, yep, the brow was furrowed and that nose was definitely crinkling. Probably in distaste at the fact that the motorcycle to their left was breaking the speed limit. 'I know this sounds a little out of nowhere, but maybe we should take a break?'

'Lean back in your seat, Ben,' said Rook idly, peering into his windshield mirror with a frown and not sparing his partner so much as a glance. 'If we have to make a sudden stop, you will suffer whiplash. Or perhaps simply a bruised throat.' And, not taking his eyes off the mirror, he tapped a finger against the furry throat Ben had so enjoyed tracing his own fingers over during their cuddling sessions.

Ben glanced down and self-consciously adjusted the polyester strap that had managed to climb up round his neck.

'Has that man no regard for others on the road?' Rook muttered to himself, now glaring at the stretch of empty tarmac the motorcyclist had left behind.

'Um, break?' Ben reminded him. 'Us? Kinda important discussion?'

Rook sighed. 'I thought it was too early in the day to enjoy smoothies? At least, that is what you always say.'

'No, no man, look...' Ben trailed off and sighed himself. 'I wasn't talking about enjoying an admittedly awesome beverage. I was talking about...well, _us_. I figured maybe we should cool down for a while, you know? No more sleeping over at each other's place, or arguing over who gets to use the shower first-'

'That never happens,' Rook broke in with an incredulous tone. 'I am always the first one up.' But he was, Ben noted wryly, now paying a lot more attention to him now that he had grabbed hold of his partner's meaning. 'Though it is true that you have been waking up earlier than normal. And also using up my quota of the hot water, which is why I suggested we share the activity this morning.'

'Your quota?' Ben muttered. 'What, are you timing me?'

Rook grinned embarrassedly. 'Perhaps a little?'

'Urgh!' spat out Nyancy from the back of the truck. 'If I wanted to hear this kinda drivel I would have stayed in to watch 'Bubbles Down the Street' or any other one of the fifty or so soaps on at this time of day.'

'But instead you decided to waste yours and everybody's else's time by robbing a pet store,-' started Ben, offering his fist out to Rook.

'-And were summarily 'kicked to the curb' by us,' finished Rook with a grin, his own hand removing itself from the steering wheel to gently knock against Ben's. 'But not to worry. There are plenty of soaps available for viewing in the cell we intend to place you in.'

Nyancy glared from one grinning face to the other, her eyes lingering on their touching fists. 'Nyah,' she mumbled after a while, looking very much as though she wanted to kick the backs of both of their seats. Thankfully though, she had more impulse control than Ben.

 

\--------------------------

 

After they had dropped Nyancy off at HQ (and she was very pleased to note that they had taken her demands for a scratching post seriously this time; they had even decorated it with _glitter_. Clearly, someone at Plumber HQ had way too much time on their hands.) Ben decided that it was not too early in the day to have a smoothie.

'C'mon,' he wheedled, groaned, perhaps even begged, all as he hung on Rook's arm like a limpet. 'It'll be great! I'll even buy you ice-cream afterwards. With this weather we could use it.'

Rook took one look at the way the sun was beaming down upon the road outside, causing pavements to gleam and colours to waver and sway, before agreeing. 'It is too soon after breakfast for ice-cream; but I will not say no to a smoothie.'

Ben cheered but a few minutes later, found himself stumbling for something to say. Because it was all very well telling someone to talk to their boyfriend. But doing it in a way that wasn't rude or insensitive or hurtful were things that didn't come easily to him.

And so now he eyed Rook from over the top of his smoothie straw, letting the taste of raspberry and cherry sit on his tongue before he swallowed.

‘Hey Rook,’ he asked eventually, in the lamest ice-breaker ever. ‘How you’ve been coping with the weather recently?’

Rook looked up a little blearily from his own smoothie, looking a little bedraggled and worse for wear, his fur slicked down with a moist sheen. With a start, Ben realised that his partner was hunched over, trying to fit as much of himself inside the grey space the parasol overhead provided.

‘It has been...overbearing,’ Rook admitted. ‘This heat...it swelters. And makes it most unpleasant to work in.’ He sighed. ‘Most days it feels as though my armour has become a part of me,’ he lamented. ‘Like a second and much unwelcomed skin.’

Ben cringed. ‘Yikes.’ He said. ‘Maybe we’d better get you another smoothie.’

Rook looked up at him a little pathetically.

‘Thank you, that would be most kind.’ Then his eyes sharpened. 'Though you have still yet to explain why we should take a 'break,'- and  here his fingers shot up with a sudden thrust of energy to form abrupt quotation marks - 'from each other.'

Ben cringed.  And Rook waited patiently while said cringe developed into a fidget. ‘I am waiting.’

‘Well...' Ben started uncertainly, 'maybe we should just sleep separately for the time being?’ At Rook’s blank look, he hurried to explain. ‘I mean, you know, since you’ve been having such a problem with the heat and all. And well, it’s not just you. It’s sucked for me too. But, well it’s hotter when you sleep next to someone than when you’re on your own.’

Rook stared at him blankly for a few seconds longer, just enough for Ben’s fingers to start jiggling with his straw nervously. And then a slight smile appeared on his partner’s face.

‘Ah,’ he said knowingly. ‘This is why you have not been in the mood for intimacy recently. And why, several times now, you have actually managed to leave the bed before I need to wake you in the mornings. ’ His eyes rolled up in thought for a moment before he said softly, ‘I have thought you unusually shy for the bedroom hours lately, it is true-oomph!’

Ben glared at him, arm outstretched from where he had firmly shoved the straw of his smoothie into Rook’s mouth. ‘You know what, I’ve changed my mind. Here, you have the rest of my smoothie. Go buy your own, afterwards.’

Rook rolled his eyes, but good-naturally, and lifted his mouth away after taking a quick slurp.

‘I have never seen the appeal of an indirect kiss,’ he said dryly, ‘and I am not about to start now.’

‘Dude,' said Ben, ‘I find it weird that you even know what that means.’

Rook raised an eyebrow.

‘Why would I not? I have seen enough of your movies to pick up some cultural cues. ’ He shuddered. ‘As well as that awful Sumo-slammers crossover with Wonder-Horse.’

Ben winced. ‘Yeah, not exactly the franchise’s greatest moment.’

‘Either way,’ Rook said, his attention snapping back to Ben, ‘it seems we have a bit of a problem. I should not be surprised really. Many interspecies relationships run into their fair share of compatibility problems.’

Ben stiffened. ‘Compatibility?’

Rook nodded, his eyes taking on a new gleam of interest, one that rapidly morphed into eagerness as his tone turned excited. ‘Yes! For instance, did you know-’

‘-pretty sure, I don’t,’ muttered Ben.

Rook frowned, though on anyone else, anyone _human_ , Ben suspected the expression might have looked more like a pout. ‘I was just going to point out that the crossbreeding of a corporal being with Anodites-’

‘La la la, can’t hear you!’ Ben clamped his hands over his ears and glared. ‘Dude! Grandma? Cousin? Both. Anodites. This ringing a bell? ’

Rook opened his mouth and then closed it, a look of consternation crossing his face.

Ben let out a sigh and then continued in a rather peeved tone of voice, ‘look, seriously, if someone came up to you and used an example like that that made you think of your sister-’

‘I take your point,’ Rook broke in swiftly, lifting up a hand in a perfectly polite ‘please halt’ manner. ‘I apologise.’

‘Besides,’ Ben continued. ‘It’s not like we’re incompatible or whatever. This problem also affects you as well. Last time I checked, you don’t deal too well with the heat either.’

Rook paused, glancing down at his fingers. ‘True,’ he said quietly, ‘when you are next to me, then yes, it makes it difficult to sleep sometimes. But because I bear fur, I imagine that I feel much warmer to you than you do to me; at night, I must resemble a furnace. You, on the other hand, feel more akin to a blanket. Uncomfortable, yes, but not unbearable.’ Something in his eyes flickered and he looked up at Ben slowly. With a rush, the human realised that the quiet gleam in his eyes was shyness, the emotion made complete only by the soft line of Rook’s mouth as it curled up, tapering off at the end with a slow swish into a smile ‘I will miss your scent if we sleep separately,’ he finished softly.

Ben paused and blinked at this, before looking down at the table and drumming his fingers there. Then he looked up, feeling a new sort of determination being born.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘maybe that should be a last resort. There’s nothing that says we can’t at least _try_ to get creative first.’

 

\--------------------------

‘Ben,’ said Rook warily, fifteen minutes later, ‘how much money are you spending?’

‘As much as I need,' Ben said cheerfully tipping the last of the notes onto the gobsmacked cashier’s hand. ‘Or rather, as much as _we_ need.’

Rook eyed the seven box loads of smoothies that Ben had haphazardly stacked on the ground. The cardboard seemed to be splitting at the seams, the corners of each edge peeling back a little to reveal the wafer-like ripple inside.

‘I do not think I will ever need as many smoothies as this,’ Rook said, his tone tweaked more by dryness than actual doubt. ‘And are you sure your father will not mind your casual raiding of his cardboard box collection?’

Without turning round, Ben waved a hand at him in a gesture Rook had learnt meant dismissal.

‘Nah, it’s not really a collection, Rook. He’s always saying he’s saving them up for when we really need them. And guess what? We never do.’ Ben offered a final grin to the cashier. ‘Thanks a lot, man. I know it can’t have been easy running up all these drinks for us.’

The cashier shrugged, before reaching up with a tissue to rub away a smudge of heat that had formed on his glasses. The movement, however, quickly betrayed the sweat stain forming along the white crease of his uniform, just under his armpit. ‘Hey, no problem, man. At least you’re paying. And the more people pay, the higher a raise I eventually get.’

Ben frowned. ‘Hey, do you get any fringe benefits here, like free smoothies after work or something?’

The cashier gave him a dull eyed look. ‘You’ve never worked in the food sector before, have you?’

‘ _Ben_ , ’ said Rook warningly.

Ben sighed. ‘Fine, fine.’ He winked at the cashier and tossed him a few coins. ‘Here, on me. Get yourself a smoothie. Working under this heat must be like torture.’

The cashier’s hands reached up automatically, slamming against both sides of the coins to form a gesture of prayer. ‘Thanks,’ he said, looking a little dazed.

‘Right! ’ said Ben turning back to Rook with an unrepentant grin, ‘help me load up!’

Rook gave him a look, but dutifully bent down and seized two box loads of drinks, carefully looping each arm around and underneath their sides. Ben, for his part, felt his grin die down into a smile as he lifted his own box into his arm and started walking towards the truck. Because that was the nice thing about dating Rook. He was always happy to help with the heavy lifting. Well, maybe not happy. But he did it anyway.

‘How exactly are you hoping to preserve the cool temperature of all these smoothies?’ the boyfriend in question called over his shoulder.

And Ben’s smile instantly burst back into a grin.

 


	3. Mating Season

‘Really?’ asked Rook, his arms crossed casually as he watched Big Chill flash back into being Ben again. And Ben felt himself grin up at him, rapping his knuckles against the mountain of ice that now slid up to touch the ceiling. For inside, caught between the twisted gleam of a thousand slanted window-like panes were the stacked smoothies, trapped not only by cardboard, but also the tight structure of ice wedged into their sides. It was like some glorious museum exhibit, only much more interesting and with a million more little prisms to boot, the sunlight helping to form tiny rainbows that slid and shivered down into tatters on the mirror-like edges. Prisms, and they were pretty if nothing else.

But Rook didn't seem to be impressed. ‘Oh?’ he drawled. ‘And what happens when all this ice melts, and your bedroom turns into a pond? Forgive me if I do not think your parents would approve.’

Ben waved his hand. ‘Don’t question genius, Rook. Why do you think I put the plastic tarp on the floor before we started? We can go and rest some buckets against the side if it makes you feel better, you big worrier. And besides, I can always turn into Heat Blast or Swamp Fire and evaporate everything if something goes horribly wrong.’

‘...thus promptly turning your bedroom into a sauna instead of a pond,’ Rook pointed out dryly. ‘And also, of course, ruining all the smoothies you have now foolishly wasted money on.’

Ben frowned. ‘Foolishly?’

‘Well, you do not really think that they will taste the same after being frozen, do you?’ Rook asked, though there was now a familiar note of curiosity in his voice.

Ben’s frown deepened slightly at this, before he shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but look, doesn’t everything feel cooler already? And yes, it’s going to melt _gradually_ but when it does, we’ll have something to drink, plenty of somethings actually, somethings that even if they’re more popsicle than smoothie, will. Taste. Awesome.’

Rook paused. And Ben could see the thoughts flashing reluctantly through his head and the strain taking place on his brow in that familiar crinkle of muscle that meant that he didn’t want to admit Ben was right, because the temperature _had_ dipped down into something a lot more pleasant as soon as the ice had sprung out of Big Chill’s breath. And honestly, Ben thought, it had gotten to the point where squelching over a sodden carpet in the morning was something to look forward to, rather than the usual raking his toes got against the sun-baked one each day.

‘C’mon,’ he said, stepping forward and in one smooth motion gliding a finger down one of the armoured blue plates that mirrored the outward thrust of Rook’s chest. ‘I’m already feeling a lot more lively. How about you?’

Rook stared at him, then swallowed.

And Ben grinned again, knowing that he had caught him.

\--------------------------

As it turned out, Rook wasn’t quite right to fear the deluge of water that would, in the future, split the sides of Ben’s crystal-glazed mountain. True to Ben's word, the melting was somewhat manageable and the added precaution of placing buckets round its sides seemed to prevent the carpet from becoming a flood zone. This didn't however, prevent the thing from looking like some manic giant flower, at least from the sort-of-but-not-really-bird's-eye-view Ben's bed offered. If you squinted, the upmost point resembled a pollen centre and the curl of stamen with its uneven dip of half-melted lines, while the plastic buckets dotted around its base spat themselves out into the cartoonish contours of flower petals. Impossibly round ones, that was.

And indeed his mum, having quickly swept her head round the door earlier, had commented on ‘what a nice art project’ he had going on and how ‘good’ it was to see him branch out into other interests. He had giggled for a while at that one, ignoring Rook’s dirty glower.

‘It is too bad you have no real appreciation for art outside of video games,’ Rook said testily.

Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Oh calm down, alley-cat. It’s not like she walked in on us doing _stuff_. You know, _naked stuff_.’ 

Rook scowled and yanked the bed sheets closer to his chest. ‘I _am_ naked under here,’ he pointed out testily.

‘Well, maybe if you didn’t wear Proto-Armour all the time, you would have had something else to slip on into when you heard my mum coming down the hall,’ Ben commented dryly. ‘Besides, she’s not dumb. It’s not like she doesn't know what you’re doing here.’

Rook’s face twisted up, rather like he wanted to snarl. But instead he threw off the sheets, wrenching his arm back with a groan as his hand thumped down against the pillow nosily. Not that Ben was complaining. For Rook was sprawled out in all his naked glory, after all, fur ruffled and mussed not only with sweat, but with all the places Ben had held onto him a half-hour ago, sometimes viciously, as though if he only pressed down hard enough he could feel a heartbeat through all that fluff. Whether he actually could or not usually depended on his state of mind and well, back then, he had been unable to focus on much of anything at all.

‘Mmm,’ he agreed, running a hand back to carefully smooth away the sweat dripping over Rook’s forehead. ‘Something tells me you need a smoothie, big guy.’

Rook smiled, the traces of his temper vanishing as they always did under the show of affection. ‘That would be nice.'

‘Of course. I’m always nice,’ Ben teased, removing his hand and wiping his now sticky fingers against the edge of the crumpled sheets. With a sigh, he drew himself up and off the bed, making his way to the diminished ice-mountain, where, after a few seconds of fruitless yanking, he managed to free a mango and peach flavoured 'Passion Burst'. The cup crunched against the slide of his fingers, the contents rattling rather like the change inside a money box as he drifted back to the bed and with a mischievous smile, pressed the wrinkled cup to the side of Rook’s head without warning.

The effect was instantaneous; Rook jolted, all of him tensing as his eyes sprang wide open, and Ben laughed and laughed as those eyes raked him over with a look of abject betrayal. Ben shook his head, still laughing as he pulled the cup down, cranking both the straw and lid away with one tight squeeze of his palm before tossing them over his shoulder. Then, with an easy smile, he lowered the open sleeve of the cup to Rook’s lips.

‘See,’ he said softly, a hint of teasing still running beneath his words as Rook’s tongue came out to lap eagerly at the bristling gleam of orange ice inside. ‘I am nice.’

Rook didn’t answer and for a while Ben watched as chunk after chunk of frozen 'Passion Burst' left tracks of tangy juice against the fur of his boyfriend's chin, slipping between the quick flashes of teeth like a nest of small rivers escaping the mountainside. The sound of Rook’s tongue seemed obscenely loud in the quiet of the room, scraping like a brush over the side of the crystallised smoothie and whittling it down into shards that easily rode down the hole of his throat in mere seconds.

Ben shivered. Sometimes he forgot just how big Rook’s mouth was, the jaws stretching wide and open the way a big cat’s did on TV. Hell, even small domestic cats could yawn wide enough to have them labelled as alien rather than the Earth mammal they truly were. He was reminded of this sometimes when they were kissing, but Rook was usually careful at that time, his jaws never stretching any wider than Ben’s own could manage to cover, and his strong tongue shoving Ben’s own away whenever he got too adventurous and stroked the very tip of Rook’s canines.

Heck, it was at moments like that that he could understand why Rook brought up compatibility issues.

‘Ahhhh. ’ Rook’s sigh came out, long and awed, as he swallowed down the last of the frozen smoothie. ‘That was nice. Not as nice as Amber Ogia admittedly, but still good. But do you know what would be even more pleasant? ’

Ben shook his head, mute.

Rook grinned.

‘If you removed your clothes, once again.’

Ben stared at him for a moment. And then burst out laughing.

Rook's brow furrowed. ‘That...was not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,’ he said slowly.

Ben shook his head, his fist already crumpling the now empty cup into a tightly folded wedge of what felt to be thick paper. He tossed it over his shoulder, hearing it bounce off the rim of his bin, but not, judging by Rook’s raised eyebrow, actually managing to make its way inside.

‘Nah, I’m game. Just wasn’t expecting you to be in the mood again, that’s all.’

‘I will never understand your sense of humour,’ Rook remarked dryly, though Ben noted that was already leaning up on his elbows, a few fingers absently hooking on the ends of Ben’s shirt. Then they gave a rather firm and deliberate tug, and Ben was forced to amend that observation, especially as Rook rapidly pushed the rest of himself up into a sitting position, his eyes now heavily alert.

‘Lift your arms,’ he instructed, both hands now wedged into the sides of Ben’s shirt as he started to shimmy it up above the line of Ben’s stomach.

Ben rolled his eyes, sighed. And then obeyed.

‘I feel like a little kid,’ he complained, wincing as his nose was briefly squished by the traveling rim of his collar. He felt it sail up over his hair, and then he was free, the rest of his shirt following suit before it was smoothly tossed over the back of his desk-chair. It even managed to land there somewhat folded and Ben shook his head, amused for once by what a talented bastard Rook was.

‘I am sorry, but I could not hear you just then,’ that same talented bastard said cheerfully. ‘Your voice was a little muffled. Did you say anything important?’

Ben narrowed his eyes, mostly to show he wasn’t fooled by the twinkle in his partner’s eye, before he shucked off his boxers in a few quick seconds. ‘Yeah,’ he added, ‘I said I can take care of this next part _myself_.’

Rook hummed, either at the lie or in acknowledgement of his own, before settling his hands on Ben’s hips. Then, with a rapid twist of movement, he lifted him up, unhooking his legs from the sheets and smoothly raising his knees, just enough to give Ben a bit of a sloped seat as he resettled him in his lap.

Ben raised his eyebrows.

‘You wanna do it like this? Okay.’

‘We are closer to eye-level this way,’ Rook muttered, frowning as his arm stretched out, his hand already dipping into the small jar of oil that was still propped up on top of the dresser from where they had left it a half-hour before. ‘I cannot believe we just left it open like this...’

‘I can,’ Ben said, rocking forward a little, just enough for his crotch to brush down and glide against the ruff of fur that fell away to reveal Rook’s own. He let out a sigh, eyes half-lidded as he witnessed a similar shock traveling through Rook's body, resulting in the slight shake of that outstretched arm. ‘But then, I don’t really think we were doing much, um, thinking at the time.’

Rook sighed, but didn’t complain, his fingers already coated with a few globules of lubricant. They hardly shook and Ben had to admire his partner’s self-control as he watched them travel down to the small cleft of space that opened up between them, Ben rocking back slightly to accommodate.

‘We should not require too much, ’ Rook murmured, that small crinkle in his nose forming as Ben raised himself obligingly, the other’s fingers already beginning that familiar tickle of movement at his opening. ‘You should still be quite loose from earlier.’

Still, he took his time, careful as ever, as his finger dove in with a slight thrust to the motion, slowing into a wriggle as it curved and probed.

Ben’s hips shook and he closed his eyes, counting slowly backwards from twenty, every even number or so jolting into a white flash of distraction as one finger was joined by two, and then a soft spurt of fur or wrinkle in the joint beneath brushed against something inside him, a nerve or a pucker of his own. Sometimes he stiffened, tense despite himself, and he felt Rook lean in to dab a slight wetness against his cheek, or to carefully rake his lips against his own.

‘Tell me if it hurts,’ said his partner, a little exasperation colouring his tone. ‘We do this every time, and yet every time you neglect to-’

‘I don’t...neglect,’ Ben breathed. ‘You’d just...way too cautious, man...if I left it up to you, you’d give up, _ahh_ , every time I grunted.’

Rook licked his cheek again.

‘There are reasons for that,’ he said, more softly this time, and Ben didn’t bother to nod or to otherwise acknowledge him. Because he knew. Rook didn’t have to say it.

He cracked open an eye. ‘Think you can make me say your name, this time?’ he teased.

Rook smiled confidently. ‘I always do.’

They grinned at each other. Rook looked like a dork, Ben thought fondly, which probably meant that his own face didn’t look much better in comparison. But even so, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Besides, it was tradition at this point, to mock-dare Rook into doing something they both knew he’d succumb too. There was even a form of weird comfort in it.

‘I won’t make you say it,’ Rook promised, the contraction coming out low and breathless in a way that made Ben lose track of his own for one heart-stopping second. ‘I will make you scream it. ’

Ben couldn’t help it. He leant forward, close enough to feel Rook fumble inside him at the shock of movement, leaving electricity to trail across his insides in a quick rush of motion. He fought down his gasp, eyes closing long enough to re-gather his breath before they flashed open again, quick enough to see the widespread darkness in Rook’s own and he watched, enchanted, as this billowed out, the ink in the pupils swallowing gold like an excited cat’s.

‘Hey there, _Blonko_ ,’ Ben _whispered_ , enjoying the way that seemed to create two full eclipses in front of him.

Rook stared. Then scowled. ‘You are cheating.’

Ben giggled. And Rook...didn’t growl. Not exactly. But he did tug his fingers out with a slow, sliding twist, one that made Ben jerk in his lap like a puppet. And then, with one broad stroke, they sought out the gleam of the jar on the dresser, Ben watching, amused, as they dove back down inside. Rook’s eyes never left his face as those same fingers became waxed with a greasy shimmer, not unlike the one that ran off honey and Ben hummed, sneakily conjuring up future remarks in his head, ones pointedly designed to remind Rook that, _oh look, they had once again forgotten to screw the lid back on the jar._ His hum came to a stop though, as those now-glistening fingers returned to the space beneath them, no doubt to trace out familiar lines along Rook’s cock.  

‘I could’ve done that,’ he pointed out.

But Rook didn’t reply, not even to remark on the logical fact that his arms were longer and therefore better able to reach the lubricant in the first place. That was how Ben knew he was in trouble.

No sooner had he thought this then Rook’s two palms slammed down on his human hips, supporting them firmly and squeezing slightly at the half-meant ‘gross’ drifting up from Ben’s lips. Ben felt himself make a face, the cool slide of Rook ’s lubricant-coated fingers leaving a squelching mark on his right hip bone, before they cupped the rounded edge with a tight firmness, and then, _and then-._

Rook suddenly slammed up, something hard and thick and _prying_ stretching its way inside, the same way his fingers had breached moments before. And Ben crashed down on his shoulder, teeth tangling firmly into his fur in retaliation. Annoyingly enough, his partner didn’t so much as flinch. At least not the way Ben wanted him too. Instead he heard a groan thrum up from beneath, passing through him, that seemed to echo out into his very teeth.

Not that it wasn’t a two way street; for Ben could feel a fire of its own wage its way through him, spiralling up from his stomach and pouring out through his mouth. He bit down harder.

This time there was a reaction. One of Rook’s hands curled away from his hip to stroke at his hair. It was not a ‘there, there’ motion, but it was close enough to sting.

‘Ben? ’

Ben blinked and removed his teeth, feeling not unlike he’d recently flossed. He just hoped he wouldn’t be spitting out mouthfuls of fur later on. He lent back, feeling that odd spasm of tightness shifting through his gut and that even odder shift and roll of his nerves as they ignited at the touch of Rook inside. It felt familiar, like another small spine coming to root at his core.

Ben chuckled. ‘Honestly. You worry so much about hurting me and then you just slam into me like that. ’

Rook’s face froze. ‘I-’ he started, then stopped.

Ben sighed and tried to relax. ‘It’s alright,’ he murmured, fingers coming up to drift through the fur he’d just shoved into with his teeth. ‘Like you said before, I was already loose. Besides,’- and here he grinned, just enough to lift the buzz of hurt from the atmosphere -‘it’s kinda hot when I make you lose control like that. Ben Ten’s still got it.’

Rook sighed. ‘Ben Ten should learn not to shovel his way under the skin of another,’ he said, as dryly as he was able. But it was difficult, Ben could tell. Pleasure was blunting his words, making them soft when they should be sharp. And because of that, he didn't have the heart to correct the misremembered expression.

‘It’s a bit late for that, ’ he said instead, bringing his hand down to scrape against the space above the chest that held, if he concentrated hard enough, the rhythm of Rook’s galloping heart.  ‘I don’t think I’m simply under your skin anymore, dude.’

Rook moaned.

‘ _Please..._ ’

Ben sighed, giving one experimental roll of hips to make sure... _yep_. They both shivered at the movement. If Rook was anything like him, fire was attempting to lick its way up, through his organs to his very heart. It felt kinda like light and sound crashing into each other.

‘Okay, ’ said Ben with a shaky breath, as he ran his thumb along the side of Rook’s throat. ‘You can start, Blonko.’

And Blonko did. Or rather he groaned, right into the side of Ben’s neck, teeth just nicking the firm slice of muscle than ran beneath, his fingers tightening into Ben’s hips as though they could run grooves into the bones underneath. And then Ben felt a jog of motion catch his hair, supporting all of him as he rose and fell, with a wet slap that on any other occasion would be funny. But he wasn’t laughing, couldn’t laugh, not with that weird moan bubbling out of his throat, the one that Kevin would probably say was girly, so thank God he wasn’t here, especially with Rook like _this, s_ taring up at him like he was a god himself, before his chin turned down, a growl tumbling out of his throat as Ben sunk down on him again, everything slamming into blissful, hot, focus-

Rook quickly lent forward and dug his teeth into Ben’s neck, a shallow reprimand for thinking. Or perhaps it was because he was just as caught in the moment as Ben was. And Ben, though he didn’t have any pointed canines himself, managed a growl all the same, seizing Rook’s hands and then tugging at the wrists attached, feeling them fly off his hips with just a touch – God, he loved how obedient Rook was at times.

But there wasn’t time to catch his breath, to re-balance himself without their aid. Instead Ben shot up and then thrashed down, legs shaking a little from the force.

'My turn,’ he spat out, thoroughly immersed by the pattern of emptiness followed by heat, a detached part of him arriving in the very hollow breath before the storm as he raised himself up, slipped himself free, and then crashed down, grinding down on that thick strip of flesh that pried him open, that helped twist heat through his guts, right up to his head, to his lungs, to the inside of his very breath-

‘Oh yes,’ he gasped, ‘right there, right _there_ , yes, yes, please _Blonko_ , _please-’_

Blonko, or Rook, as some part of his sentimental heart cried, growled again, hands ramming down on his hips with a fury that left him sore and gasping. That large head curled inwards between them, soaking up what little space remained and ganging, as usual, Ben’s flushed face.

Up, down, up, down, racing against the sky, even if the ceiling was in the way, Ben pulling, Rook pushing, and it felt like _them_ , was _them_ , enough for the heat to rise up inside, to feel as though they were fusing together, the bones in Rook’s hands, his very fingers, melting into the larger ones cradled within Ben’s hips.

‘Close,’ Ben gasped, his chest seizing, as, for a moment, one of Rook’s hands managed to free themselves from this cruel symbiosis, fingers quickly twisting over Ben’s own straining dick. ‘God, stop that, I’m so close-’

‘My name. Again,’ Rock managed, his words spat out into animalistic chunks, such a far cry from his usual thesaurus-wielding self, that Ben wanted to laugh.

‘Blonko,’ he said lowly, the thrum of the word traveling down his spine as it flexed, jumping up before the rest of him had the chance to be pulled open again. ‘Blonko,’ he repeated again, enjoying the power he felt rolling over them both. ‘C’mon, c’mon, you gonna make me scream?’

Something churned, broke free as fingers tightened on his hips again and he was shoved down with a force that felt as though it was enough to shatter bone. But something else shattered instead and Ben cried out, riding it down as his cum splattered out to stain the fur in front of him with an even dirtier white. He felt himself slow, the roll of his hips stuttering slightly as Rook pushed in one last time with a great force of movement, shoulders shaking before he tugged himself out, white sputtering from his own cock as it jerked, once, twice, against Ben’s thigh.

For a moment a haze hung about them, heads lowered as Ben’s hair drifted just under Rook’s nose.  Both chests heaved, trying to refill with air and shake away some of the emptiness that still clung inside. Rook, naturally was the first to recover, Ben could feel it in the way he felt the legs beneath him stiffen, not in a tense way, but in more ‘I am alert and here’  fashion. And then Rook’s fingers were diving into his hair line, wrapping against his cheek to find his chin and prop it up, just long enough for Rook’s mouth to find his own and linger there, chaste and suitably soft.

Ben moaned a little, more at the show of tenderness than any residual heat behind the action, and then tried not to feel too embarrassed as Rook pulled away and smiled at him knowingly.

‘Don’t get all smug, man,’ Ben warned.

‘I believe I am entitled to it,’ Rook said, suddenly sounding formal as hell. ‘I kept my promise; I made you scream.’

Ben huffed, though he only half-meant it and reached up to thread his fingers up round Rook’s ears, letting them dip down to rub against their rounded base rather than the pointed tips. Rook was quite sensitive there and it showed in the way his eyes briefly closed and his head lent forward, pushing further into the touch.

‘Alright, tough guy,’ Ben said, amused at how much weight Rook was placing in his hands, ‘next time, you can be the one to ride me.’

‘I fear I would crush you.’

Ben frowned. ‘Just how weak do you think I am?’

Rook sighed impatiently and raised his head. ‘I simply do not want to see you uncomfortable. ’

‘Dude,’ Ben said flatly. ‘At times like these, you’re meant to shut up and enjoy the moment, rather than try to be all clever. You’re just digging yourself into a deeper hole.’

Rook frowned and Ben enjoyed seeing the way he could see the other raid his memory, before Rook's eyes widened, pupils swinging back to Ben with alarm.

Ben sniggered. ‘Guess you’ve heard that one, huh?’

‘Yes, I...but how am I getting myself-’

Ben rolled his eyes and lifted up a hand, letting his palm collide smoothly with Rook’s face before he pressed it down firmly towards the pillow.

‘You get yourself out of the hole by shutting up and letting me sleep on you.’

Rook grunted, and Ben smiled to feel the air pushed out beneath his fingers in a ripple of heat.

‘You will wake up sweaty and overheated, as usual,’ the Revonnahgander warned.

‘Don’t care,’ mumbled Ben, ‘you’re supposed to sleep in the same bed as someone after you’ve had sex with them. Otherwise what’s the point?’

His mind was drifting, falling into a lazy black, but he could still feel the buzz of Rook’s brain at work.

‘C’mon,’ he murmured, ‘pleeeease...’

It really was magic word. Because at times, like now, it really did make Rook sigh and shut up. Ben smiled as he felt a few fingers twist into his hair, cradling the back of his neck with a dim possessiveness and decided there was nothing to worry about.

\--------------------------

Two hours later, Ben woke up sticky, a little flushed and then feeling thoroughly dismayed as he looked over to see the crinkled, collapsed tower of Mr Smoothies. A dull scent of lime, lemon and peaches flooded the bedroom, all from the crushed ice that had managed to scatter not only into the buckets, but out past the perimeter and into the carpet. And of course, it wasn’t so much ice anymore, as it was a stain of dried liquid.

‘Aww, man!’

To his side, Rook pretended to sleep, a slight smile on his face.

Ben shook his shoulder. ‘C’mon Rook, looks like we’re on cleaning duty!’

The smile turned into a scowl as Rook buried his head further into the pillow.

‘...I know you’re awake.’

Rook groaned and prayed for autumn to come early that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure whether Ben would ever call Rook by his chosen name, even if they did get in a relationship. I suppose it’s possible that he could gradually transition into it, especially if Blonko himself insisted on it, but then again, I’m not entirely sure if that’s what would happen? It’s clear canonically at least, that Rook is essentially what Ben identifies him as, despite learning at some point that’s it’s his family name, (when I assume he thought it was his proper name at the beginning of their partnership?)
> 
> I suspect I may be heavily influenced by the way another pairing in a different show I liked went down, one where for years of their acquaintance both people referred to each other by their surname. They do, in moments of emotional vulnerability and so forth, refer to each other by their first names, but those moments are few and far between. And once they do get together, they still mostly label each other by their surnames, though they do, or at least one of them does, feel more comfortable addressing each other by their Christian names in certain moments. I guess they’ve corresponded to each other in a certain manner for so long, that their surnames have, as a matter of course, become their actual names for each other. The emotional significance is bundled in there, in a way it perhaps wouldn’t be for other couples.
> 
> And I guess I kinda see the same thing happening in relation to how Ben addresses Rook.


	4. Occam's Razor

 

‘We cannot keep doing this.’

Ben bit his lip and nodded.

‘And I am getting tired of your mother giving me the ‘stink-eye.’’

Ben stared down at the ruffled sheets between them, at all the lines of blue that lay scattered over the fabric like a fine layer of dust. ‘In all fairness, your fur is itchy and it kind of gets everywhere,’ he pointed out. ‘You can’t exactly blame her for being annoyed.’

‘But it is not usually this excessive!’ exclaimed Rook, making a wide sweeping gesture with his arm as though to dismiss the evidence. ‘And yet in this heat, I cannot help it! I do not cool off as rapidly as a human or any other similarly sparsely-haired life-form does, even when sweating and so my body makes up for it by casting off hairs in every direction!’

‘Every direction is right,’ Ben muttered, eyeing the bedraggled carpet by the window.

For they had scrubbed and soaked up the smoothie residue with what seemed to be a lifetime’s supply of paper towels, and although the fragrance of lost flavours was now dim, covered over with a lemon freshener Rook had retrieved from the airing cupboard, it did nothing to help disguise the newish patches of blue that littered the floor. They lay across the dark bruises of carpet like spokes, the stains beneath still speaking of the moisture that had once clouded Ben’s floor. Perhaps someone else would have found the visual effect beautiful; without the mountain of smoothies in the way, the sunlight poured in to light up the hairs like fibre-optic cables. And with their colour, they threaded through the damp spots like rivers, alighting on the worse of the roughed-up carpet like brave explorers parting branches and leaving tracks.

Rook sighed, sitting up to run a hand over his now incredibly sweaty brow. ‘Perhaps you were right about taking a break,’ he admitted, looking a little sore as he did so. ‘Our proximity, at least in your bed, seems to end up with both of us suffering.’

Ben sniggered. ‘The sex just isn’t worth it, huh?’

Rock knocked a gentle fist against his shoulder, smiling lightly as he did so. ‘Ben, be serious.’

‘Oh, I am,’ Ben said airily, leaning up on his knees to wipe a careful palm against Rook’s brow. The moisture brushed his fingers, clinging to his skin with a damp ferocity that he half-expected and though it was unbelievably gross, it also made Rook’s smile clamber down into something gentler, so Ben let it pass. You couldn’t _not_ share a bed with someone for months and fail to develop a partial immunity to being grossed out by their body fluids, after all.

‘And I also know that there are going to be other summers, real scorchers just like this one in the future. And what are we gonna do then? Move into a house with a pool? Or buy a fancy vacation apartment somewhere up north and have the Plumber’s long-range teleport system beam us there and back every day?’

Rook smiled and leaned forward to nibble on Ben’s ear, snuffling into that rich brown hair as he did so. It made Ben laugh and jerk back slightly, straight into Rook’s waiting palm that came up to let blue fingers lap at the hairline on his neck.

‘I do not think we will have the budget for such a thing for another few years,’ Rook remarked idly and that made Ben pause because it indicated that Rook had actually thought about moving in together. Which... _whoa_. ‘Either way,’ Rook continued, thoroughly undisturbed by whatever facial expression Ben was currently making, ‘we should be more concerned with the problems of the present that those of the future.’

‘Yeah, but we manage okay when we’re at your place,’ Ben argued. ‘And just now with those smoothies, even if it turned real messy later on.’

‘If you were really ‘okay’ then you would not have suggested the break in the first place,’ Rook protested softly. ‘And having you come over to my quarters all the time will make you resentful; you hate feeling dependant on anyone, even for something like a bed. And I believe you still feel over-heated, even then.’

Ben grumbled under his breath. He knew all that, he _knew_ , and yet he was having trouble letting go of the feelings that had raced through him this afternoon, at the sheer experience of having their playful intimacy rekindled through the duration of sex that didn’t make him want to die. There was nothing less sexy, he had found, than trying to please a lover in an environment that resembled the inside of a volcano. At times it had felt as though Rook’s very breath was pasting a plume of lava against his throat, all while the fur on those fingertips was busy searing against his skin.

‘I am this close,’ he said finally, holding up a finger and a thumb to illustrate the tiny gap between them, ‘to asking Nyancy Drew for advice.’

Rook’s lazy look became a glare. ‘Do not even dare,’ he said lowly, fingers tightening on the back of Ben’s neck. ‘Nothing would be quicker at killing the mood. I am not one of her kitties and refuse to be considered as such.’

Ben blinked, a little surprised that Rook had got the jokey ‘Nancy Drew’ reference without attempting to correct it, but then he grimaced and squirmed at Rook’s hold on his skin. ‘Ow! You’re pinching me!’

‘You deserve it,’ Rook told him waspishly. But he did let go.

Ben sighed. ‘I’m not gonna have to start brushing you, am I?’

Rook looked at him, horror in his eyes. ‘No, I- why would you even...I am not a pet, Ben!’

Maybe not, Ben thought, eying Rook with the sort of sly calculation that always made his partner develop a weary long-suffering look in return. But that didn’t mean that everything the internet had to say about Earth’s pet cats was completely irrelevant here either.

 

\--------------------------

 

The first thing the internet taught him was that shaving cats was a bad idea. Because science said so. And that it somehow kept the heat out as well as keeping it in? Ben wasn’t entirely sure about that last part. But then again, as some of the articles he read pointed out, cats couldn’t sweat in the same way humans could – their fur prevented it and the only place sweat could collect and escape were the pads of their paws.

So Rook was right in one respect; he really wasn’t one of Nyancy Chan’s kitties. His physiology apparently _did_ allow him to sweat beneath his fur, enough for it to somehow collect on the very ends. Which was probably just as well. Ben didn’t want him dying of heatstroke after all.

But the internet did tell him that however a cat’s fur worked, either retaining or keeping out heat, it didn’t take much to break down the system. Knotted gnarls of fur disrupted the shell of hair that covered and protected the skin, much like how a hole in a ship’s hull let water in.

Ben grimaced as the words _‘matted or tangled fur’_ leapt up at him from out of the screen. Because...well, Rook’s fur certainly became that way after a few minutes of intense fighting in these new, unbearable temperatures.

_‘Settle your cat into a new routine of brushing or combing out their fur during the cooler parts of the day. Morning is ideal.’_

Ben almost threw his hands up in frustration. Rook would never go for it! He would ask questions, keep pressing on and on with his endless curiosity and the moment Ben let slip that he was following advice from a website about pets...well. He could imagine how well that would go down.

Ben glanced back down at the screen, making a face at the next tip. For it advised him to _‘gently slide a wet towel or cloth against the flanks, starting from the head and then working down towards the tail.’_

Great. Because the only problem with that was that Rook _hated_ getting even so much as _slightly_ damp when he wasn’t in the bathroom or swimming.  Wet fur was an irritant for him while he was working. Plus, Ben had gotten many an up-close whiff of the guy once his face had been drowned by a burst water pipe on the job, and while it was nowhere as bad as the kind of odour Stinkfly produced, it was still pretty heady.

Ben sighed. It wasn’t all bad. And that wafting wet scent died away soon enough, to be replaced by the lighter and yet somehow more fragrant smell of Rook himself. It was like a small spiced orange or tangerine, the kind some people associated with Christmas, ready to be stripped down into candied peel and surrounded by flames from festive candles.

It was there whenever Ben held the other close and buried his nose in the fur, rising into the air, smoky like a cigar or maybe just expensive cologne. Ben figured it had something to do with Rook being an alien, but was a little too shy to press for details. He had never really asked what he smelt like to Rook and trying to find out the details felt in some way, more intimate than sex. Animalistic, rather. And Ben wasn’t sure how willing he was to tread down that road. In his mind, there were just some things humans didn’t do, didn’t ask. And while he knew that humans did become attached to the scent of their partners, it wasn’t really something he liked to reflect on, except in the dark and in comfort, the cloying scent of Blonko close by, exactly where his expression could be hidden away from all spying eyes other than his boyfriend’s. Perhaps that made him a coward.

‘Or maybe not,’ he muttered his eyes flicking over the screen one last time. He wouldn’t know until he tried, after all.

 

\--------------------------

 

‘No,’ Rook calmly stated six hours later.

Ben frowned and very narrowly avoid stomping his foot in anger. The last time he had done that, Rook had blinked and informed him rather dryly that he wasn’t related to a rabbit. ‘C’mon,’ he said instead, ‘what happened to all that ‘ooh, Ben, I’ll miss your scent?’’

Rook crossed his arms, adopting the familiar narrow-eyed stance he used against whatever oncoming whine he knew to be coming from Ben’s throat. ‘Has my sister been lending you her romance novel collection? Because I have yet to walk out of those pages and start saying ‘ooh,’ like those dreadful fictional characters would.’

Ben sniggered at the thought of opening up a book, much less a romance novel, and shook his head with a smile. ‘Who’s the one coming up with unlikely examples now? But the point still stands. I mean it was my stupid idea in the first place-’

‘Not all your ideas are stupid, Ben,’ the Revonnahgander broke in. ‘And on this occasion, you were right to give voice to it.’ He hesitated, seeming to struggle with whatever thoughts now roamed his head. ‘I can tolerate a lack of your presence in my bed if it means I do not have to see you suffer. And I am confident you can do the same for me. So no, you cannot come to my quarters tonight. For now, we must sleep alone.’ For a moment he looked as though he wanted to soften his words, perhaps by sliding his hand round the edge of Ben’s face. But then his indecision faded and the fingers hovering in mid-air fell, before, with a firm nod to himself, Rook turned and walked away.

And Ben watched him go with a scowl.

 

\--------------------------

 

Not that this mattered in the long run. For Ben was the master of sneak attacks. Or err, just sneaking in general.

Casually, he slammed his hand down on his watch in front of Rook’s locked quarters and in a flash of green light his legs melted away to become the trailing tail of Ghostfreak’s slithery form. Suppressing a chuckle, he passed through the door, spying the sweat-streaked body of his boyfriend flopped out over the rumpled mattress of his bed.  And it was a sheer testament to how much Rook had been suffering that the usual sheets had been kicked out into a twisted ball on the floor, rather than arranged into the neat rectangular folds he usually favoured.

Ben smiled inwardly, mostly because Ghostfreak had no real mouth, and watched the creases in Rook’s brow become even thicker as he let out a moaning snort of a snore, sleep, and perhaps the motion of a changing dream, causing his arm to lurch out, his fingers barely grazing the floor.

Poor baby, Ben thought and made himself tangible enough to ram his claws down across the Omnitrix symbol on his chest. Now human again, and with no tail to glide silently over the floor with, he crept over to the door as quietly as he could, frowning and shucking off his shoes as a slight squeak drifted out from under the rubbery heels. A few seconds later he ended up frowning again, this time at the bright blare of light from the door controls before his expression cleared and he keyed the first few symbols of the Revonnahgander word for chock-ice – or in this case Amber-Ogia-ice.

That’s what you get for lecturing me about every single aspect of your culture when it’s two thousand degrees outside, Ben thought, grinning as he spied the small rucksack he left outside the door. Because the only bad thing about being an intangible alien, after all, was that you couldn’t rid other objects of their solid particles and drag them through with you. So with a quick snap-forward, he grabbed the straps and yanked the thing inside, sliding the door back shut with a quick check over his shoulder to make Rook was still nestled down inside slumber land.

Then, with all the grace he could manage, he snuck up onto the bed, tangling his legs down against the sides of Rook’s chest and running a hand gently over Rook’s brow. The next step was to yank out a big glittery brush from the rucksack, one with rainbow stickers plastered all over its plastic handle.

 _The things I do for big, furry..._ his mind grumbled.

And then with a sigh, he banished the memory of a grinning Nyancy Chan and started to work the soft bristles through Rook’s coat, taking his time and tracing over the stripes visible to him in the dark, carefully untangling the crustier stands by rubbing his fingertips against the ends. He refused to follow the website’s instructions to the letter, though he did at least try to keep the strokes from deliberately messing with the directional current each section of fur seemed to drift towards, and ending up feeling a little like a river himself, ironing out each small knot and gnarled twist with a careful push of fingers and brush.

Eventually, he settled into an awkward rhythm, trying to keep a relaxed hum from escaping under his breath as he worked. It was very repetitive, and the flicker of the brush under the blue stroke of his hand, his skin tone almost lamp-like under the glower of the dark, was quite hypnotising, right up until the very moment a hand with no _skin_ -tone at all reached up and grabbed his wrist, interrupting the lulling movement with a startled tenseness.

‘I would ask how you got into the quarters that I have programmed to only open from the inside, at least for tonight,’ came a sleepy growl that to Ben’s trained ears actually sounded a bit more awake than Rook probably wanted to portray. ‘But I know you well enough to know that you always find a way. I should really get some of the people who designed the cell for Alberto to come in and install further security measures.’

Ben wrinkled up his nose. ‘Don’t,’ he advised. ‘The moment you do that some bad guy will show up and bust in while I’m here. And everything gets so much harder when I can’t go hero.’

‘Yes, of course, I wouldn’t want to make _your_ life harder. Never mind the fact that this hypothetical bad guy would be destroying my stuff. And you would too, knowing you.’

‘Hey, I’m helping here, _helping_ ,’ stressed Ben, waggling the hand holding the brush for emphasis. He could only make it jiggle faintly given Rook’s tight grip on his wrist, but still, he tried. ‘C’mon, you should feel cooler without so many knots in here.’

‘Which pet-site did you pull that from?’ Rook asked wryly, suppressing a sigh when he felt Ben’s wrist twitch in his grasp. Then he leaned up slightly, squinting as he did so. ‘Is that...Nyancy’s kitty brush?’

‘An unused one!’ Ben said hastily, picking out the beginning of a heated glare being directed his way. ‘Seriously! She’s stock-piled a whole heap of stuff in a few lockers about town. I got her to tell me the location of one.’

‘You bargained with a criminal?!?’

‘I promised to buy her some fresh pawns. Apparently one of her cats here hates the brand of cat food we give them. But expensive pawns? Yeah, then there’s no issue.’

‘That is hardly the point,’ growled Rook. He looked very much on the point of gritting his teeth, of maybe flashing a canine or two into the surrounding gloom. But then abruptly, he relaxed, loosening his fingers so that they ran down the side of Ben’s arm, instead of trapping it. ‘This is foolish. And quite frankly, insulting. If you had pulled the info from a site about how to care for a zoo’s tigers, then I might feel slightly mollified, but as it is...’ he paused, brow twisting before he savagely bit out, ‘I am being compared to a house-cat!’

Ben stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment. And then he burst out laughing, the brush almost dropping from his hand as the spasms shook him.

Rook glared. So Ben forced himself down slightly, his face well within range of whatever punishing poke or prod Rook could choose to favour him within. He grinned, squeezing out a few last chuckles as he did so, and then a little too confidently, ran his fingers over Rook’s chin.

‘You are no tiger,’ he said as Rook fought to hold his frown in place. ‘I’ve seen Youtube cats, real house-cats, with more bite than you.’

Rook bared his teeth at him as though to prove him wrong, before he shivered and his lips drew up across gums and fangs both, sealing off the view as Ben rubbed a little harder against his chin. ‘’Course those cats like a good chuck under the chin, just like you do as well,’ Ben murmured, trying not to sound too teasing as he did so. ‘So I don’t think you should be insulted. The similarities have benefits, right?’

Rook looked caught, torn between a glare and the mellowed-out bliss that was currently gripping hold of the ends of his mouth and forcing it to stretch. Slowly, the frown muscles above quivered and gave, and the line of his mouth branched out into a quirky smile, his eyelids drooping down to complete the effect. But Ben wasn't without pity; untangling his fingers and tugging them away, he took up the brush again and wove it down through the air to casually glance against the other’s chest. Then, pressing a little harder, he fell back into the repetitive stroke-and-lift of before, causing fur to rise up and gather into gliding patterns shaped like veins, silky-smooth, rather than the spiky, bed-combed roughness they had nestled inside minutes ago.

Rook stared at him in disbelief.

‘Helping, remember?’ Ben pronounced a little heavily. ‘You really telling me this makes no difference? Come on, I know you don’t have time to do this every morning. And your sister said you’re supposed to take time off to do this at least twice a week or it gets too tangled and unmanageable...or it just looks nasty, 'like the uncultured hide of a Murroid.’ Her words, not mine.’

Rook twitched.

‘What? You and Gwen talk about me all the time.’

‘Less than you might think,’ Rook muttered. ‘Though perhaps we should amend that if you are going to come up with such schemes for helping me.’

Ben grinned triumphantly.

And Rook sighed. ‘I do feel a little cooler,’ he admitted grudgingly.’ But that does not mean, no, it should _not_ mean that I approve of you sneaking in to disturb me.’

‘Right, you house-cats need a lot of sleep,’ said Ben, nodding his head sagely, though there was a slight quirk to his mouth. ‘Not like tigers, nope, they like to prowl and chase deer and-’

 What else tigers got to do, Ben was never allowed to tell. For Rook surged up with a swiftness that was all, Ben was forced to admit, very much like a tiger, and pounced on him, pushing him down with a quick flip of his body. The brush was instantly lost between them, caught between muscle and bed and Ben protested, drew scrabbling nails across the mattress underneath as Rook pushed his thumb over the Omnitrix and held it steady, watchful for any other questing human fingertips. Then, looking a little smug, he rolled away slightly, enough for Ben to tug both hand and brush free, before, with a graceful curve of his neck, he bent down to wedge his head into the spoon-like fall of space that cut out from under the human’s neck. Ben stiffened, feeling Rook breathe as his t-shirt stirred at the sudden flow of air that landed there like a slap, before the Revonnahgander’s head settled more firmly across Ben’s chest – very much like a house-cat making itself comfortable.

...Ben was too smart this time to say anything about that though.

‘Aw, kitty-kat all tuckered out?’

Well, okay, maybe not that smart.

 ‘Shut up, Ben,’ said Rook promptly by way of reply, ‘and be my pillow.’

Ben groaned at this echo of his own too-common behaviour. But his hands came up to fold over the bump of Rook’s forehead anyway.

‘I’m still not calling you a tiger.’

‘And pillows are not supposed to talk,’ Rook informed him. ‘So then perhaps neither of us are behaving as we should.’

‘Well,’ Ben muttered, more to himself than to Rook, ‘at least you’re not sending me out of the room.’

Rook sighed. ‘The heavens help us when we are sent on separate month-long missions,’ he said wryly. ‘Seeing as how we are not even managing to have a proper break from each other right now.’

‘Well, it’s mostly my fault,’ Ben admitted cheerfully.

‘Yes,’ said Rook without so much as a hint of protest. ‘But I should learn not to give in as much as I sometimes do.’   

Ben was quiet a moment. ‘What should we do?’ he finally asked.

‘Well, given your sleeping habits, I doubt you will be able to wake up early enough to brush me every morning,’ Rook said, his nose wrinkling at the thought of being attended to like a house-cat. ‘So perhaps we should beg Kevin for a loan of his Taydenite supply and move to Canada.’

‘Yeeeah,’ said Ben. ‘I was more in the market for helpful suggestions. Not ones doomed to failure.’

Rook thought hard for a moment, glancing over at the floor, then at the mattress coiled beneath them, and all the rivers of sweat-soaked creases flushing within the small pale spaces between their tangled limbs to stain the mattress...before his eyes opened in sudden realisation.

‘We do not have to move anywhere. The main problem is the way our body temperature affects the other... and we do not have take a break to remedy that!' Ben looked at him and Rook continued, looking rather sheepish and annoyed with himself as he did so. 'I can yank out a spare mattress from somewhere like we did when you came to stay on Revonnah, placing it on the floor so that if one of us wakes up over-heated, they can settle down upon it without disturbing the other.’

Ben brightened. ‘That’s brilliant! Yeah! And I’ve got some spare sleeping bags somewhere so I can do the same for you in my room...or maybe Grandpa still has them? He’s wound up with a lot of my stuff. But anyway, I can do that.’ He grinned, impulsively hugging Rook closer to him. ‘This is awesome! We can still have sex and you can still smell me or whatever-’

‘-It is not as strange as your tone would imply it is-’

‘Whatever! The point is, nobody has to give anything up!’

One of Rook’s fingers crept up to stroke along the smooth lines of Ben’s arm. ‘Hush. I am as excited as you, but right now, my need for sleep is winning. I would appreciate it if you started to act like a proper pillow.’

Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ But he did quieten down after that. And though he did wake up a little sweaty a few hours later, he also, for the first time in weeks, felt a thousand times lighter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the simple solution is best and prevents your carpet getting wet. Perhaps Rook should have thought harder before letting Ben buy all those smoothies, though it's not like he didn't get anything out of the deal. 
> 
> Also, I guess we've come full circle.


	5. Night of the Living Heater 2

 

'It's ffrr-freezing, R-rook,' Ben stuttered four months later, snuggling further into his boyfriend's side. 'D-don't w-w-wanna be a pil-pillow this ti-time...you b-be a blanket.' Then with a heroic sigh, he added a small, slightly shaky, 'pl _-pl-please_.'

Rook didn't sigh or groan or even smile knowingly. He simply pulled the duvet over them tighter, stretched as much of himself around Ben as he could, and cast a reproving eye on the temperature gauge near the door which was blinking erratically.

'Eight more minutes,' he said as soothingly as he could. 'Blukic and Driba said they would be as quick as possible in rebooting the heating system-'

Ben let out a bitter laugh, one that jangled apart within the shaking contours of his own throat.

'...Fair enough. Perhaps we should make that sixteen minutes.'

Ben snarled, whipped his arms out of Rook's hold, and with a flash of green light, the shape of warm human that Rook had held quickly swelled before breaking apart into clumps of orange fur. Rook almost crashed of the bed.

'Well,' he managed, brushing a few tickly strands away from his nose, 'at least you did not change into Heatblast. I would not have wanted my bed to catch fire.' He blinked as Wildmutt grunted, and then quickly rescued his straining duvet from falling into that slobbery mouth. 'I have to admit, it will be a change to see orange fur on my sheets instead of blue.'

Wildmutt grunted again and draped a thoughtful limb over Rook's chest.

'Thank you. It is a bit chilly here, even with fur. Hopefully your transformation will hold until Blukic and Driba have finished running their diagnostics.'

Ben grinned, but only to himself. After all, Rook wasn't the only boyfriend in the equation who could rustle up some fur-coated muscles. And with the winter approaching, it was the least he could do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, _now_ we've come full circle.


End file.
